Pure State of Confusion
by Ty-Lee Sweater Fund
Summary: What happens when Jet finds the Xiaolin monks training in his forest?Starts during first season of Avatar, and when Wuya's still an apparition. I don't own avatar or XS, R&R. Rated to be safe violence later. Pairing surprise!
1. Pregame

b. **Hello! and welcome to the first chapter! Yes the title is wierd, and won't apply at the beginning but WHO REALLY CARES! Any ways this hasn't been here because I had a mac laptop before and it didn't have that tool bar with bolf and stuff, it also didn't have paragraphing. (TEH HORROR) so now I have AN capabilitys. Well actually I'm a co-author so its more C-AN. Me and my friend are writing this together. And thanks for anyone who already reviewed!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own A:tla or XS. (I don't want to do disclaimeres so this goes for ALL CHAPPIES)** /b 

Kimiko stared out at the long river in front of her. The water was beautiful with the reflection of the leaves. She could see the river stretch on to a dam in the distance.

According to master Fung the monks had to practice somewhere foreign. They were "mastering" the training grounds in the temple, apparently. So here they were in an uncharted forest, in some strange unknown area. Whatever.

---------

"Hey, Jet, some people are by the reservoir," said a small girl. Next to her stood the tall teenaged boy she was talking to.

"They Fire Nation?" he said, his voice dripping with venom.

"Dunno. One of them looks like he's wearing the robes, but he is a bit too young to be any threat. The rest seem fine."

"I'll see. Good job Smellerbee." The boy left for the river.

---------

"Man, this _sucks_. No electricity, no video games, no nothing..." the Brazilian boy groveled, hands shoved deep into the deepest, darkest depths of his jean pockets.

"No indoor plumbing, either," Dojo added helpfully.

"Yeah." Raimundo nodded vigorously for a moment, then paused.

"Wait. Do you... Even _use_ indoor plumbing...? I dun really get that…"

Dojo crossed his arms indignantly. "Well, what did you THINK I did?"

Rai shuddered slightly. "Never really **thought** about that at all 'till now. Aaaaaand I kinda wish I still hadn't."

Another day, another 'training session', and another... Discussion of Dojo's toilet habits. Laced with big grammatical no-nos; grammatical no-nos almost as big as 'no-nos'.

Ughh. Kimiko turned her attention away from the unsavory conversation and back to the water. It was lucky they were right by a river. That would give at least one of Xiaolin Dragons a chance to really put some time into becoming one with his element. It would've really been a tranquil, nice, almost spiritual moment, if the Xiaolin Dragon of Water in question hadn't been screaming his freakishly round little head off at the water.

The frustrated, worn-out young monk had been at it for a while now. Apparently having established that a), his lack of ability to quite entirely master his element yet was directly the fault of the water itself, and b) that the water had ears, Omi had started yelling at the river out of sheer frustration. Having quickly used up the 'swear' words he knew ('Holy crud' and 'Screwball'- to the best of what Raimundo could translate, that is), Omi was now moving on to shouting what he thought were cuss words but were, in fact, actually the names of various rare indian insects.

Clay was silent; head tilted, back against a tree, his whole bulky body hunched slightly around the little piece of oak he was carving, poised in delicate concentration.

All in all, the Xiaolin monks seemed to all be happy – or, at least, preoccupied – with their separate little activities. Well – all except for Kimiko, that is. The act of breathing, unfortunately, did not seem to be enthralling her. She frowned; almost starting to wish that maybe, just maybe, by some strange twist of events, that they would actually start TRAINING sometime during this training session.

--------

Behind him, above him, below him, and beside him: the whole world blurred as Jet swung through the trees. It was dizzying, breathtaking, heart-racing, but he didn't even notice. It was funny how much clearer thoughts could become in the most unlikely places. He was distanced from the world at times like this; lost in thought isn't quite the right way to put it. He wasn't lost. He was as far from lost as he ever was, in a place among his own thoughts and dreams and musings and half-thoughts, feet firm on the ground in the land of clouds.

Swinging one sword out ahead of him as the other left its hold, there was always the likelihood of him miscalculating by the smallest bit; his sword catching on empty air and him plummeting to the unforgiving ground. But he didn't. He never did. And that was the beauty in it.

It was times like this the whole world became just that much clearer, and he felt he could sort out anything that came his way, any problem, any obfuscation, any conflict, any trouble.

Anything but where he was going.

Shit.

He'd missed the river. Cursing not-so-under his breath, he redirected himself and continued to his destination. A few minutes later, his feet hit the ground and his swords met their sheaths.

Jet eyed the strangers warily, but cooly. He was here to find out if they were a threat, and any real threat would be able to disguise itself and pass as not dangerous if he acted too suspicious.

None of the monks seemed to notice the strange boy fall from the trees. Everyone was too surprised that Omi had told the water to "Insect off!" to notice. That was the closest he got to an actual expression all day!

Well, none of them noticed besides Dojo… Well. Dojo wasn't a monk, but at least he was a dragon.

Said dragon stared up at the boy. More specifically, the giant hook things dangling from his waist. The boy, however, barely gave a passing glance to Dojo.

He seemed to be watching the monks. Waiting for something. Silent. Almost like a predator.

"Or a stalker…" the creepy thought crossed Dojo's mind but he dismissed it immediately. The closest thing these kids would ever get to a stalker was Jack Spicer. Except Kimiko, but she was rich.


	2. Faceoff

"Man, this is boring." thought Jet. He was watching the group of people. With their clothes, they could be from some unknown nation. They might be Fire Nation sent out like that to fool passers-by. Jet shook the thought out of his head. Longshot 'said' he was getting too paranoid about that kind of thing. 

"So you going to just stand there like some stalker or you gonna say something?" A voice said from below him. Jet looked down to see that a… a centipede-lizard was talking to him. Reasonably, Jet didn't take that too well.

"Holy crap!" Jet said, "Talking centipede-lizard!"

"I am not a- did he just say centipede… lizard?" the… thing said, looking up at a thoroughly creeped-out Jet.

"Okay am I hallucinating or something?" Jet said. The people seemed to notice him now.

* * *

Their anti-training was interrupted rather rudely by a yell significantly closer to it's intentions of cussing than Omi's.

"Centipede lizard?" Raimundo said, glancing around at the others.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to agree with him there." commented the one who had been deemed 'centipede-lizard'.

The grammar Nazi's wrath was provoked. "It was a question, Dojo. You don't agree with questions." the Japanese girl scolded.

"Fine, fine. I agree with his CONCEPT of BEING CONFUSED." Dojo replied, with a roll of his eyes and an elaborate hand gesture that even he wasn't quite sure the intention of. "…That good enough for ya?"

Jet, meanwhile, looked on. These people were seeming less and less all the time to be a threat. The talking centipede-lizard that didn't seem to quite know what a centipede-lizard was, on the other hand, was beginning to rather unnerve him.

Oh. The big one in the hat was coming towards him. Quick, Jet, for the Spirits' sake, stop staring at the centipede-lizard. Nono, don't stare at the big guy's HAT either, just…. Pretend to be normal.

The reason he was trying to keep this up around THESE people escaped him, but he resolved to keep it up anyway, at least for the present time.

"Uh. Howdy," the extremely bulky one with the odd hat (DON'T stare, DON'T stare, Jet) began. "Ya'll okay? Ya look like a cow who dun and found himself at a barbeque."

A cow. Who 'dun and found himself at a barbecue'. Jet liked to think that, after all he'd been through, and all the uneducated orphans he'd welcomed in with open arms, he had a fairly high threshold for dealing with and getting to know people before making judgements of their intelligence.

It had taken two sentences to convince Jet that this guy was, pardon his french, a fucking moron.

"I'm fine," Jet replied, flashing a grin that he hoped to give off an air of casual, calming, control, but came off more as manic.

Clay paused, and, manners wavering for a moment, lifted the rim of his hat with one muscled hand, to give the stranger a quizzical, somewhat disturbed stare. A moment later, though, he regained himself and let his hat drop, giving a little shake of his head. "'kay then. If ya'll say so."

He turned his (abnormaly large, Jet couldn't help noting) back, at the same time turning his attention back to the others of his group. Jet thumbed his hookswords slightly; not threateningly so much as out of habit. Finally, he paused, and inhaled briefly. Couldn't hurt to ask them outright, seeing as, even if they lied, there was no trust he had for them that they could betray, anyway.

"Though," he began. " – I mean, I am perfectly fine – Though, I'm kinda wondering; what, exactly, are you people _doing _here? No offense."

Raimundo glanced over, a devilish grin spreading from his lips and shining from his eyes. "None taken. And we're watching the show." He answered calmly, pointing a thumb towards the round-headed child up to his chest – knee deep for normal people – in the river, who was still half-heartedly bellowing insect names at the waters surface.

"Uh-_**huh**_. "Well. Interesting. Knock yourself out, I guess." Jet said, shaking his head and beginning to take his leave. These people were obviously crazies, but they were no threat. Every so often, people like them wandered through his forest. Eventually, they'd either get themselves drowned, or leave. Either way, it didn't concern Jet in the least.

There was no real point to the departing glance he threw over his shoulder right then. Many of the following events of his life would have never happened had he just kept going. He could've become someone else entirely different than who he did; for better or for worse or for both or for neither But I suppose that's the way life is; the flap of a single butterfly's wings in one isolated place may set off a tornado somewhere oceans away. And a tornado affects not just its starter, but those around it; equally, if not more so. And so it was as that with Jet and the five he met that day: one of them among the others.

The point is, he could just as easily, if not more easily, have kept on going, and he would have, for the monks, disappeared and never been seen again, but instead he turned his head and narrowed his eyes and changed the world.

For from the girl: a few swift movements, a sharp intake of breath – and flames danced from her fingers. The fire swirled around her, and every little movement she made was mimed and echoed in the fire. It was as if the fire was a marionette; or rather, that the girl with which it moved in union was, and the flames an entity all of their own. It was surreal, it was illusionistic, it was beautiful. It invoked nostalgia and refreshment and an incomplete sort of happiness and words that formed in your mind and soul but could never in a million years escape your lips.

For Jet, it invoked only anger.

Finally Kimiko started to practice. The warmth from her fingertips was soothing. Sometimes practicing with her fire could be the most relaxing thing she could do.

* * *

Finally Kimiko started to practice. The warmth spurting from her fingertips was soothing. Sometimes practicing with her fire could be the most relaxing thing she could do.

"Okay," she said to her self "How do I do that move… Oh yeah." Kimiko kicked forward focusing her energy on her foot.

_Concentrate… _

"Kim! Look out!" She heard a voice from behind her.

_Damn it Rai, I lost my concentration… _

She wasn't pleased with the results of her kick. At first she didn't feel that soothing warmth. Instead she felt pain. Not only a searing heat in her foot. She felt something else. Something cutting into her neck. She heard a boys voice say "Get outta our forest, Firenation."

"Who are you?" she demanded. Voice shaking, She couldn't see the boys face. She new if she were to turn around the hook of these wretched swords confining her would slit her neck. His voice was to cold to be Jack, To human to be a bot, and even in its icy tone, she could tell had more… kindness than Chase. And what he called her. _Firenation. _Even though she had no idea what it meant. It had a racist vibe to it.

"You don't have to know that. You don't have to know who killed you, you just have to know you're dead." His voice gradually lowered to a whisper as he spoke. He wasn't loud in the first place, so the word "dead" was nearly inaudible. She wished it was, for that word sent shivers down her back.

"You scared, Firenation. Its not like I'm gonna surprise you. It's pretty obvious I think." She heard the voice grunt from behind her. The swords unclasped from her neck. She turned around and saw Rai in a fight with that weird boy from earlier.


	3. Check

**Meet my shortest Chappie yet. Focouses on Kimikins here.**

Kimiko was still, motionless, for a moment; trapped in that split second before somebody snaps.

A familiar sensation started behind her eyes, starting as a tingle as it flooded through her veins and becoming an overpowering thud as it spread throughout her whole body.

Anger.

How _dare_ anybody do that to her, make her feel vulnerable and weak and everything she strived to avoid, to pave over and cover up.

And so she expressed her rage with every movement of her hands and feet, punching and kicking and every fibre of her being aching to cause pain.

Needless to say, actions have consequences - disasters happen – and suddenly (the boy whistled or something; she barely even noticed, and wouldn't at all if it weren't for the look on his face) they were surrounded by children.

With weapons.

Everybody says that, the moment before a disaster – a car crash, for example – time slows and it becomes clear what's going to happen, and the worst part was that it was all so clear.

Kimiko found this was a lie.

The battle itself, her loss -- it went by fast; quick and confusing and unpredictable. It was the time following that seemed to slow, to trap her; she felt metal on her neck, her wrists grabbed and bound unsympathetically together, wind at her sides and breath on her neck and trees flying past.

And the very worst part was not knowing – for even one, fleeting moment - what was going to happen to her.


	4. King me

**Two Chappies in a day! I'm on a roll! by that I mean, I am going to Camp and intrusting the updating to my partner in crime for a month. So be patient for that time readers! ;**

Jet was now swinging through the trees once more. His captive flung over his back in a position so she wouldn't fall. _Though falling may not be so bad. _His conscience pointed out. He still kept her up though. For if the timing was wrong, or if a branch was in the right place, she could survive, escape.

Finally, Jet got to the hide out. He was greeted by the familliar fall-coloured maple tree tops, with branches that were strong enough to hold the platforms which made up the hide out.

He took his captive to the prison hut. From the outside, it looked the same as the regular ones. In the inside it held two cages. Cages which were built to hold humans. One of which, for extra precaution, was built outside the other. The outer one did have a regular lock and key that The Duke stole a year ago. But the other had a special lock. One only Jet could open.

Jet opened the first door and walked into the cell. He went to the eighth bar from the left side of the inner one. He took out his trademark wheatstalk, and put the end into the nearly invisible whole. The door swung open. The captive was thrown hard on the ground.

The rebel took his chance to examine the girl. He couldn't put his finger on it but something about her appearance was scratching at the back of his mind. It wasn't her red camisole with a pink tie-dye shrug over it. It wasn't her jeans with random quotes, sayings and lyrics all over them. It wasn't even her hair, which was black with 6 different coloured braids falling down her back. No, it was her eyes. Big blue eyes which belonged not to a firebender but to a watertribesman. There was something fishy about that.

"Who are you?" Jet was broken out of his trance by the girls (very loud) voice.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

He smirked – small but sly and menacing. "Who I am doesn't really matter for ya at this point, Fire Nation, now does it?" He withdrew his wheatstalk almost as punctuation. "And it's pretty clear what I want. Why don'tcha think about that a second."

A hateful scowl crossed the girl's face. "I wouldn't talk to me that way."

Had they been in battle - or anywhere else - for that matter, such a fierce attitude would've – at the least – not seemed _this _utterly ridiculous, and maybe even have served to fire Jet's already invoked anger.

But standing there, outside the cage from which she couldn't possibly free herself and was practically just waiting to die, listening to such a feeble attempt to assert herself, Jet found himself endlessly amused.

"I'll bet you wouldn't." he calmly mocked, and was gone from the room.

And so Kim was left trapped.

There were bars around her and shackles on her wrists. She knew she couldn't get free, she knew she was helpless and she knew she was hopeless. But there was nothing she hated more than vulnerability, than weakness, so she found herself pretending that she had a chance.

She threw her weight against the chains and again and again, till she could tell just by the ache in her arms they were going to be bruised. A brief hesitation – then she just kept going, pulling at the shackles and kicking at the bars and catching on her own breath.

Until she noticed _him _back at the doorway. He was just leaning there, smirking and watching with an ugly sort of amusement, and when he caught her eye his smirk broadened to a grin. "What, not enjoying your stay?" His voice was dripping with mock hurt. "Well then don't worry. You don't have much longer to wait, anyway, Firenation."

Kimiko cringed, fear and anger mingling. "Shu… Shut the fuck up and let me go!" It burst out of her more desperately than she'd intended.

Chuckling coldly, Jet stood up from the doorway. "Right. I'm just going to let you go, off the hook, after going through the bother of kidnapping you, just 'cause you said so." He shook his head, utterly calm and casual. "I don't get it. You people always seem to think that'll work, somehow."

Kimiko gritted her teeth; so she wouldn't be the first he'd done this to...


	5. Assist

"You monster.' she spat, her glare fixated on the floor. "You sick monster." She lifted her gaze slightly to give said 'monster' the undeserved honor of seeing her eyes. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

"Another unimportant question. Ask one I will answer, if you are going to ask anything." Jet shook his head.

Kimiko glared at him, thinking the meaning of his words were 'I feel like it'. That only made her hatred more intense. Who was this guy, a new Heylin cronie? He seemed too good… too natural at this to be new but she'd never seen him before.

The happy conversation was cut short. Whirring and chopping sounds were coming from outside. Along with the ever-so pleasant sound of two people in an argument.

"I'm sure they went the other way!" a boy's voice said.

_I knew he was Heylin. _Kimiko thought at hearing Jacks voice. Of course, if she heard Jets thought of _what the fuck? _she would have known she was wrong.

" No" A raspy voice said, "I saw them go in there. That girls hair is hard to miss."

"So that's what that rainbow thing was…"

Jet left the prison-hut to see what it was. He saw one person (probably) and a… floating purple blob?

The 'blob' averted her glare from the white-as-paper redhead boy at her side, letting it rest on Jet and soften into a smirk. "Never mind, Jackie-boy." she hissed. "Allow the _intelligent_ life forms to sort this out."

The boy stared as Wuya floated over. "You. We just so happen to have noticed that you have something… Well. Some_one. _ Of rather…" she grinned. "Interest, to us. We were wondering if you'd be willing to share." It briefly occurred to Wuya to wonder what his REASON for kidnapping the Xiaolin Dragon of Fire was, exactly, but quickly dismissed it, deciding it didn't matter as long as she got hurt.

Jet, meanwhile, was wondering if perhaps the stress finally got to his head. "Guh."

A frown overtook Wuya's (apparitional) face. This guy must have been a stupid one. "Uh. The girl. Who you kidnapped. Just now."

"What about her?!" Jet snarled with unexpected fierceness, his face twisting into a frown. It occurred to him that maybe these people (or rather: one person and a floating mass of colourful mist of some sort) were here to try and save the girl, play the heroes.

He wasn't in the least aware that Jack Spicer had purposely proclaimed himself quite the opposite.

"She just so happens to have caused us…" Wuya wrinkled her nose. "…Some _inconvenience_ in the past, and we've decided that the most civil way possible to handle this would be to eliminate her completely, neh?"

Jet relaxed. "Yeah. Kinda what I was PLANNING to begin with. Y'know, the whole kidnapping thing? Not for her own good." he growled scornfully. "And I don't need your help, thanks."

Meanwhile, the entire length of time this spanned; the monks – who'd caught sight of their long-time enemies in the trees and immediately followed – had snuck into the prison hut. Surprised at the fact that the outer cage was unlocked (and that there were two to begin with), their luck was cut short when they found no way to open the second; alas, none of them donning a wheatstalk of their own -- and none knowing of the hole, anyway.


	6. Elimination round

**By the way, this is 'the One Who Must Not Be Referred To By Name But By A Long Rambling Description Of How She Must Not Be Referred To By Name'.**

…Hi.

I'm T-LSF's 'partner in crime', the one who's been writing this fanfic alongside her. You may have noticed there's more than one author, seeing as a) we have very distinctly different styles, and b) it was mentioned earlier on in the fanfic that there were two; in a place and manner that only a drunk donkey could've logically missed (no offense towards any drunk donkeys who may be reading this -- more power to you).

Because of my partner's absense, I will be doing the updating – and all of the writing – for the rest of the month, assuming, of course, that I don't drop dead due to the lack of having a best friend to unload my evil plans upon.

See; me and T-LSF are CLOSE.

Like crossed fingers.

Back to the fanfiction, now. This is the last chapter that we both put work into; for the rest of July it's just me .

Raimundo was now banging against the bars, throwing pointless wind attacks. His usually tanned knuckes were now red with blood. All in vain, of course.

But this was surpassed by Kimiko's shouting at them, saying what she had already tried and what they should do - until she really started getting irritating.

"Lil' lady, I reckon it's 'bout time to quiet down a lil." the cowboy finally said.

Kimiko groaned loudly before following orders.

Whilst, outside; they could hear all of this.

Jet's eyes narrowed, but his entrance to the room was calm; he knew there was nothing they could do to free her, and all he had to do was sit back and enjoy the show.

Desperate and bickering, the monks didn't even notice. "Try – I DUNNO! – pushing a brick in the wall or somethin'? That could activate it…" Dojo mumbled.

"Yeah, it just might…" Kimiko pretended to be lost in thought. "Except for – ooh – one little itty bitty thing, Dojo….? THE ROOM IS FUCKING MADE OF FUCKING WOOD. Do you _SEE_ any bricks?!"

Despite the fact that she wasn't yelling at him in particular, Kim was starting to get on an already stressed Rai's nerves. Rai was not pleasant when things got on his nerves. "Mind quitting your bitching? We're doing the best we can!"

Kimiko glared but didn't argue; her energy was drained from the futile struggles, and she didn't want to waste what was left in a feeble argument. Whatever got her out of there the fastest, she was happy with.

The Heyliners did nothing to make their presence known (nor hide it, either, for that matter). For now, they refrained from doing anything; not so much to observe the Dragons so much as to observe this new face observing them.

Jack didn't like it there. He didn't like the place and he didn't like the people, and he didn't like, in particular, this boy with the hooks at his sides and the wheat in his mouth and the uneasy look to him.

There was a certain gleam in Jet's eye; one that was frightening in the inexplicably calm, unescapable way, and that held something genuinely dangerous. You could look into his eyes and see not just bloodshed, but, suddenly and sickeningly, the enjoyment thereof, and it was not something that left you easily.

The struggle for Kimiko's freedom went on, and nothing was even close to accomplished. The bickers that had been quieted for a while quickly raged up again, and soon it was clear that, more often than not, working together just pushed them farther apart.

A sense of boredom soon followed the fleeting sense of amusement this commotion brought the founder of the Freedom Fighters, and, within seconds of this, the three uncaged elemental children were sprawled on the ground, gleaming darts embedded in their necks.

The look on his captive's face at this was enough to make him grin. "They're not dead, if that's what you're thinking." he said offhandedly, stepping forward and playing with one of the darts at his fingertips. "But it's not them who I particularly want to be." As these last words passed his lips, Jet's gaze settled back on Kimiko. His eyes trapped hers. "The moment I want somebody dead, they already _are_, practically."


	7. Sudden Death

** Comment, people, please. It inspires me to update sooner. 'else I might just give up until my partner gets back at the end of the month. **

So the boy had evil taunting down pat.

Jack Spicer was more than a little bit envious.

Wuya grinned manically, immediately positioning herself in the air directly in front of Kimiko. "Yes! You hear that?" she cried gleefully, apparently unaware of how thoroughly she was thwarting the fear of the previous moment. 'You are _done for! _Ha!"

Kimiko glared back at her before giving a role of her eyes. "You've thrown death threats at me so many times, Wuya." she said calmly. "And go ahead and correct me if I'm wrong, but none of them ever _have_ followed through, now have they?"

The apparitional hag was taken aback, not having foreseen this response, and knowing a point had been made. "Well, er, no… But it wasn't me threatening you this time, it was our new friend," A confident smirk twisted her features, but it faltered again as she realized she didn't know Jet's name. "….What's his face."

"What's his face. The HORROR." Kimiko's voice rang out sarcastically – all the while just covering, however, the fact that this stranger did scare her in ways that none of the Heyliners ever previously could; he was clearly ten thousand times more coherent, more threatening, more merciless, than Jack Spicer – who, despite his frequent struggles to defeat and annihilate them, would never really have the heart to go through with it if it ever became possible. As with the majority of people – or at least, one should _hope_ – he was solid; unlike Wuya (who'd be able to quite enthusiastically go through with what Jack couldn't psychologically – but was PHYSICALLY incapable).

And… _Something_ seemed to separate him from Chase. From what she'd seen so for, they seemed quite similar; in that both were merciless and cruel and distant. Both would be able to carry out a murder any day, guiltlessly – and both would very much like to do so to Kimiko.

But, in Chase's case, this was clearly because he was quite literally soulless.

One could tell that this boy, on the other hand, wasn't. He was pure human and had emotions and yet could still happily kill her in a moment, and somehow this in itself made him ten thousand times more terrifying than Chase Young.

The shackled girl was broken from her line of thought abruptly. "Would somebody PLEASE hurt her?" Wuya whined, her pleading almost childlike. "She's getting too snarky."

Jack was tensely silent, and the stranger didn't answer, staring.

To put it in poetic terms; the events happening around Jet were not unlike murky waters; unclear in nature and purpose, flowing in unknown directions.

To put it in more everyday terms; he had no fucking idea what the fuck was going on.

This made no sense. Why oh why did the redhead and the… Spirit have to show up? Things were so much simpler beforehand. Their very presence was making some big scene out of something as insignificant as killing the firebender.

"With pleasure." he replied finally, teeth clenched in frustrated confusion, as he decided maybe they'd leave the sooner the girl was dead. Unsheathing one sword, the freedom fighter stepped towards her, hastily went through the errand of unlocking the cage door (disregarding confused stares from the other two) and prepared.

"Why are you doing this?" Her eyes were blank; ten thousand fleeting thoughts and heartbeats hidden.

"Why should I answer?"

"I have a right to know why I'm going to die."

Jet's eyes hardened; narrowing at something unseen. "Leeches like you don't have rights." he spat.

And – one swift unhesitant movement – sharpened metal flew for flesh.


	8. Instant Replay

Survival instinct.

That one moment when you realize that you're going to die and every fibre of your being cries out to stop it; that's when you stop being human.

Instincts obfuscate everything else, and you become animal – lashing out and scratching and aiming for the throat, whatever you can to conserve your own life.

Survival instinct took over, and Kimiko attacked, with fire at her fingertips – not even taking notice of the chains cutting into her wrists at the ferocity of her movements.

Jet, unprepared, stumbled back and winced (the feel of burning was all too familiar). He clutched at the burn marks on his arm – it flashed between total numbness and searing pain, and he could already tell that serious damage had been done.

Where others might get scared, might become miserable or feel self pity or flat out break down - Jet's anger and hatred only served to fuel his determination.

Kimiko watched on, swore under her breath.

Shit. He wasn't unconscious. What now?

He'd dropped his sword and stumbled back, intially, and it had looked like he might pass out or retreat to take care of the horrid wound on his arm. But then he'd looked up at her, and the pain in his eyes seemed to diminish – seemed to twist and transform into something horrifying, something inhuman – and she'd known instantly that he wasn't going to let her get away now.

The fire-manipulator returned Jet's glare, but, inside, the end results of her actions were scaring her more than they scared him. Her attack had changed something in him; stirred and awoken something terrifying, something she wasn't prepared to face.

Survival instinct can do frightening things to a person.


	9. Queen Sacrifice

**Hey! Its T-LSF again! and I'm back! I hope my co-writer didn't wait to long between updates. And review, or she will eat your liver.**

**On to the story:**

Pain blurred Jet's vision. He took a split second to figure out where to strike with out dulling his sword against the hard, cold, metal. Luckily, the time was wasted; she dodged, ignoring the pain screaming from her shackled wrists. The new searing pain in her arm, not so much. She grabbed her now-bleeding arm.

* * *

Jack screamed girlishly, a horrified look across his face. This contrasted quite nicely with the grin appearing on Wuya's apparitional one. But both expressions were completely different than the look of intense anger on the newly awakened Raimundo.

* * *

It took him a moment to comprehend what the heck was going on. Then, after a moment, he added it together. Creepy new guy, plus bloody Kimiko, plus happy Wuya, equals creepy new guy must die.

Jet ignored the varied reactions around him; for the moment, only him and his target existed in his world. He swore at his miss, and pulled back his sword to strike again, set towards the throat.

And found himself being slammed against the ceiling before promptly crashing back down to the floor.

Rai glared down at him. "Listen, buddy, I don't know who the hell you are and who you think you are," he began; the very poor choice of words there escaped him. "But you. Keep. Your. Hands. The FUCK. Off of her. Got it?!"

Wuya scowled; this was quite the aggravation.

"You fool! Why didn't you help him?!" she growled, turning her anger on Jack.

"What the heck was I supposed to do? Throw myself in front of him, slow-mo style?! Yeeaaaah, somehow I don't think so!"

Jet flinched. Why wouldn't they just _shut_ _up_? His anger flared up, and, in one swift unpausing movement, he hooked one sword around the brown-haired boy's ankle and pulled him off his feet.

Raimundo found the positions reversed; himself on the ground and the tall figure of his nemesis lingering above him.

* * *

He wasn't – Jet decided, idly thumbing his sword – so much as worth killing. But if he hadn't learned his lesson, if he tried to intrude once more – he wouldn't be worth allowing to live, either.

Jet's sights, once again, fled to Kimiko. But, after a split second, it hit him; if the boy had woken up, it wouldn't be long before the others did as well. He calmly turned back again; one swipe of his hand into his pouch and he withdrew another handful of darts. Might as well eradicate this problem before it arose.

Therefore three quarters of the monks and Jack Spicer were all unconsious. Wuya was now wondering why a dart just went through her face. To dased to say anything.

Jet prepared to strike

* * *

Kimiko, at the moment, was desiding weather or not to use one final try at freedom. If she were to set the platform aflame, she may be able to get out of this alive. But she could also die, and kill who knows how many people along with her. The idea had a lot of what-ifs in it. Such as, What if she couldn't break the fall? What if the forest completely burns down? What if the other monks die as well? It was a hard decision.

The back end of the sword headed toward her neck.

The wooden wall started to burn…


	10. Cherry Picking

**Sorry for reposting this, I forgot the last part sweatdrop and I forgot alot of editing. So I'm sorry!**

…Fuck.

That was, Jet seemed to recall as he woke up, his last waking thought. His last waking though before what, exactly, he wasn't quite sure yet.

His eyes swept over his surroundings; a neat little room all made of white; white ceilings, white drapes, white bed, white sheets. A wooden nightstand beside the bed; a lamp and a small rectangular box on it.

This wasn't the hideout. That much he knew. None of the rooms in the hideout were like this; this hideously, blindingly white. This looked like some sort of hospital room. Or, rather, a bad charicature of one.

He sat up, kicking the bedsheets away. Two feet on the ground and a shudder went up his back; a sore jolt up his bones. He'd fallen from the hideout trees in the past; mostly during construction, when he had been still a bit nervous, still a bit clumsy, still gaining his feel for the treetops. That was what this felt like; the pain after the fall. It'd fade eventually, but for the time being it was a dull, consistent thud.

The freedom fighter still wasn't quite sure where he was and why, but he nonetheless found himself concluding this was an irrevocably bad day.

Ignoring the ache, he hoisted himself up ro his feet, briefly surveying the room before heading towards the door. His hand was on the doorknob, and he found himself loosely puzzling over the fact that something – he didn't know what – but something, felt different, felt askew about himself.

And then it hit him.

…

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Jet darted back to the bed and violently tore the sheets from it ('now why would they be there?' a small voice in the bad of his head pointed out, but he didn't care). Within a moment, the nightstand was laying on it's side across the ground, it's three drawers strewn separately across the room. And; still nothing.

His swords.

Where the fuck were his swords?

Where the fuck were his swords?

Where the fuck were his swords?!

He took a deep breath, regaining himself (and yet, at the same time, planning out in his head the very bloody, gruesomely detailed demise of whoever had done this). He turned on his heels and left the room; there had to be something around outside of there that made everything make sense.

"Omi!" Jet overheard a voice say, "I still vote we, y'know, don't help the guy who tried to kill Kimiko."

"Why not?"

Jet raised an eyebrow; if anyone tried to kill any of the freedom fighters, he'd kill them a few times over. It'd happened before.

" 'Why not' you say?" the first voice mocked. Starting to sound a bit familiar… "Ooh, maybe – just maybe - because having him here might give 'im a chance to try again?"

Jet silently agreed with that reasoning, now starting to wonder who they were talking about.

"But by showing him the great kindness of helping him in his hour of need, he will be compelled to be kinder himself!"

What -

"And he will want to give us help in return!"

The -

"Therefore, he will not wish to kill Kimiko anymore."

Hell?

Jet, finally, looked into the room. Upon seeing the people conversing, he understood exactly what was going on.

The Fire Nation girl had burnt down the prison hut, and Jet had been unable to catch himself. Upon impact with the forest ground, he'd fallen unconscious. Apparently, one of the girl's friends was stupid enough to want to lend him help, and didn't realise that the hideout had perfectly good health equipment (some bandages and stuff). And now he was a place where the only thing he knew about where he was was that he knew nothing about it. He could be anywhere from the Earth Kingdom, to the middle of the Fire Nation.

The only upside Jet could find to this was that he got another chance at killing the girl.

* * *

"You know what, Omi? That's a great idea."

Omi beamed.

"That's a splendid idea."

He nodded proudly.

"And I've got another one. How about we bake cupcakes for Chase? That way, when he eats them, he'll see he never needed the soup. All he needed in order to be happy were the cupcakes. So, then, he'll say sorry for all he's done, join the Xiaolin side, and come stay in our basement living off fuck-didilly-ucking cupcakes!"

Omi's smile faded slowly.

"Listen, Omi." Raimundo snarled, tone no longer sarcastic, but still equally nasty. "I'm really sick of your overblown 'but ohhh they'll see the EVIL of their WAYS if we're just be nice!!!' ideas. **We are not gonna keep a murderer around just 'cause you think that if we're all smiles and rainbows, he'll be too. **Period. Fricking period, Omi. Period, period, period."

Omi seemed stunningly unfazed. He let out a slight sigh. "I suppose it is wrong of me to expect you to be as selfless and wise as I am." he admitted modestly. "But, nonetheless, I do not cease to be disappointed in you, Raimundo." With that, he turned and walked a way.

Raimundo blinked, veiled in silence for a moment; so taken aback he was rendered speechless.

By the time the enraged shrieking came, Omi was already gone.

-

The big-headed bald kid was coming towards the door. Jet flinched and froze for a moment, making up his mind, before darting back to the room he'd woken up in.

He was not surprised when the bald kid came in a few minutes later.

"Ah, so you have awoken." Omi stated cheerfully, and did a slight bow. "My name is Omi. And this is the temple; you willl be staying here for a as-of-yet unknown amount of time while you recover."

"Uh." Jet interjected, but Omi went right on talking.

"You may recognize me as one of the friends of the girl whom you kidnapped. That is correct. And thus, you may be confused as to why I have assisted you." he explained. "You see, that is simply because I happen to be a very kind, wonderful person. You will grow to love me. Perhaps I will even be a good influence on you." He flashed Jet a warm smile.

"Um." Jet was flabbergasted.

"Do not be too disappointed when you fail to achieve the great extent of everything I've achieved, though. It is unrealistic for you to strive so high. But you will be accepted and loved here no matter how less wondrous than me you are." Omi concluded, and left the room proudly; convinced he'd made a great impression.

Wow. This kid was as bigheaded as his head was big.

Jet shook his head and rolled over on to his side; going over his various options in his mind.

So, he could just go for it, kill her right off. No, he'd need a weapon for that…. Strangling would take to long, and would be to painful for Jets taste. He'd never be able to stomach it. He'd have to do it inconspicuously, but how? He'd have to get close to her to do that.

Close to her… he repeated the thought in his head. He wouldn't be able to inconspicuously be close to her, unless… all he had to do was gain her trust…

**I have a few comments on this chappie **

**1: Major spaz on Rai's part**

**2: 'member the box on the bedside table? It is eviler than Chase Young and princess Azula put together. You are lucky you'l probably never find out whats in it.**

**3: Read and Review or else I'll sick the box on you.**


	11. FreedomFighter on Offence

**Dadadada An Update!! Okay I'd like to put a special shoutout to Rzz for being my most frequent reviewer!!! (the most important) and to Dragon of Twilight for having a review that is strangly amusing!! Thankyou!!!**

Jet fell asleep planning that night. All he had to do was start. He almost had it all figured out.

He decided to wander the temple -- no better way to find her than that. A quick glance around his room (once again, feeling a twinge of frustration for the absence of his swords) and he was off.

As Jet made his way down a spiralling hallway, he realized something he'd failed to previously notice. Graced with high ceilings and marble floors; this place was _huge_.

This was living in luxury, if Jet had ever seen it. He found himself wondering who these people were, anyway, and a little bit of a grudging feeling clenched at his stomach. He'd always had a certain dislike for people who lived in exceptionally rich ways while the less fortunate continued to suffer.

Something caught his eye. His train of thought was broken, and a brief smirk crossed his lips -- there she was; his target.

* * *

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the boy that kidnapped her before. _So he woke up… _she thought. She hated that Omi insisted on bringing the boy, was he _trying_ to get her killed? Kimiko's train of thought was broken. She heard him mutter something under his breath, she could kind of make it out: 

"So she doesn't look --- her…"

This sentence confused Kimiko, she couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that. Without thinking she answered.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

* * *

Jet grinned inwardly. It was a pretty risky chance. He only had one shot at it, and he had to make it just the right volume for her to hear and for her to think it was unintended. He was lucky that he had lots of experience in the matter. 

"Huh? What's what supposed to mean?" Jet answered, putting a confused look on his face.

"what you just said." She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I might have mistaken you for someone else." Jet said. The lies came out more naturally than if he were telling the truth. It usually goes like that.

"Who?" Kimiko said her curiosity winning over her better judgment.

Exactly what Jet was aiming for. Though he didn't think of a name to go with his story. First girls name that came to his head, can't be to common, can't be unheard of. Someone he's met before…

"A girl named Katara. Looks almost identical to you." Big, big lie. She looks closer to that brown haired boy the baldy was talking to than this girl.

"Almost?" She wanted the difference. _Obviously wants to see any dishonesty in this… _

"Yeah." He pretended to misunderstand, biding a split second to think up a believable difference.

"How so?" Kimiko kept the venom in her voice. Trying not to lose guard. Not that she was having trouble or anything.

"Eyes. Not something you notice right away, now is it?" that's true. The second part at least. But this girl didn't need to know that.

"What did she do, than?" she needed to cover everything. If he has any flaws, she won't believe him.

_No details. Can't make it sound like I trust her. Something that makes it sound bad, but doesn't reveal __**anything**_Jet's spilt-second thought process for the next thing he said went kind of like that.

"Long story." He said, the fake venom in his voice perfect, and the faux anger in his eyes indistinguishable from the real thing.

Jet walked away at that. Letting her linger on it.


	12. Break

**A/N Sorry for the long time between posts but you finally got it, btw, I may change the title of this fic soon, so be careful. Also the surprise pairing is becoming a little more blatent. Any guesses ;P**

* * *

Well. That was weird.

The Dragon of Fire shook her head and turned to walk down the hall, before promptly realizing she'd completely forgotten where she'd been going.

Oh. Uh. Well.

Peachy.

With an annoyed little grunt, she retreated to her room to puzzle over what the kidnapper-boy had said.

In the meantime, the kidnapper-boy in question was heading off down the hall in the opposite direction, grinning widely; seemed like she bought it. There _had_ been a few signs of suspicion on her part, but, all in all, she'd bought it.

"Moron." the sing-song voiced word escaped his gleeful lips; more a gloating mumble than anything else.

"Excuse me?!" an angry voice objected.

Jet blinked.

"Me?! Are you talking about _me_?!" the voice came again. It definitely wasn't the girl; it wasn't particularly familiar, really.

Jet, frankly, was having trouble even _finding_ the source of the voice. He glanced around and saw no one.

"Hel-_lo_?! Are you ignoring me?!" Wherever the voice was coming from, it was beginning to border on hysterical. "I sure HOPE you're not!! When people ignore me, I get upset, and, and--! And when I get upset, I—I cry!!!"

Finally, Jet looked down.

He found himself face to face (or rather, what with the lizard's blaringly inferior height, face-to-knee) with the centipede-lizard from earlier.

At the moment, it was bawling up at him.

_Loudly._

Jet was, in all honesty, not entirely sure how one customarily handled being sobbed at by a talking centipede-lizard.

He was silent for a moment, but finally decided on _something _to get the damned thing to shut up.

"I wasn't talking about you."

"You weren't?" the centipede-lizard looked up at Jet, blew it's nose on Jet's pant leg, (he made a mental note to burn those later) and cried some more, "Really?" Jet noticed that the idiotic thing was overreacting so much that it was crying _tears of joy_!

"Yes really."

Dojo looked up at Jet as if they were getting married (the human in this scenario was beyond sufficiently freaked out and was awkwardly avoiding the dragon's gaze). Then, suddenly, the dragon's expression turned to one of suspicion.

"Then… if you were – wait… I need props. Don't move a muscle." The dragon darted off to get something. Jet, meanwhile, did not take heed of it's demand; in fact doing everything to go directly against said command and get out of there as fast as possible.

---

Her free hand fiddling with a tangle of multicoloured hair, Kimiko lay sprawled across her bed, exchanging lazy one-handed instant messages with Keiko.

'keiko: so y do u think tis wird guy h8s sum chic named ketara??'

Kimiko let out an exasperated sigh and began typing. 'Okay, first of all, Keiko, I don't get how you can misspell a name that's just a couple posts above yours on the computer screen. Second, I seriously have no idea. But I doubt that a guy mentally unstable enough to /do/ something like he did to begin with is going to have some great reason behind it anyway.'

She hit send and waited for a reply.

'keiko: oh'

'keiko: …'

'keiko: btw is he cute?/'

Kimiko practically punched the keyboard writing out her answer. 'THIS GUY JUST TRIED TO KILL ME, HOW CAN YOU ASK ME THAT?!?!?!' She slapped 'enter'.

There was a moment with no response.

'keiko: sry' popped up on the screen.

Kim relaxed a bit.

'keiko: so wus that a no or wut?'

'GOODBYE, Keiko.' Kimiko typed furiously before slamming the laptop shut.

PAGE BREAK

After a grand total of ten minutes and twenty three point two-eight seconds since their last encounter: Dojo, who was now clad in Sherlock Holmes gear (conveniently – frighteningly, almost – just the right size for him) bumped into Jet once more.

The dragon didn't seem the least bit pleased very clear, straight forward command had not been tooken to heart.

"You moved a muscle." he stated indignantly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." the freedom fighter moved even _more _muscles in an attempt to walk around the dragon.

Dojo was not pleased. No, not pleased one bit. "YOU DARE MOVE A MUSCLE!"

The teen's reaction, much unlike his earlier behavior, was quite pleasing; he paused and stopped moving. Completely. Dojo ignored that he had a look of pure appall on his face.

"Now, to the purpose of my cool new get-up. Who were you calling a moron?"

"That bald kid."

Dojo's hopes for a long-winded, pointless interrogation crashed entirely. 'You're no fun.' he said, before slithering away.

With a small, agitated breath out through her teeth, Kimiko slipped out of her bedroom and began walking down the hall.

About thirty seconds later, she passed Dojo in what looked like an old halloween costume, complete with a magnifying glass held in his tail, grumbling to himself as he skulked down the hallway.

After brief considering, Kimiko declined to comment.


End file.
